Mingo's War
by highland laurel
Summary: Mingo's care of a seriously wounded British officer causes him to revisit his English past. Contains characters created for previous stories.
1. Chapter 1

Mingo's War

Mingo's War

Chapter 1

The Kentucky bird song was punctuated by the distant roar of muskets. Mingo stopped and tilted his head, trying to discern the direction of the gunfire. The strong breeze made location difficult but after several seconds of searching the tall Cherokee pinpointed the sound. It was coming from the northwest. Grasping his own hunting rifle firmly in his right hand, he began to run effortlessly toward the sound.

The acrid odor of gunpowder drifted in the Kentucky wind. Mingo cautiously crept through the slanting sunlight until he could see the battlefield. Red coats splashed brightly in the summer grass. The brown skin blended more naturally. Mingo carefully crouched at the edge of the clearing, watching for any sign of life. The birds slowly began to return, bringing their bright notes to ease the dead stillness.

After the passage of ten minutes he rose and cautiously, sadly, approached the bodies. Shawnee arrows littered the ground. British bodies were riddled with them. The three Catawba scouts were grossly mutilated. Slowly and carefully Mingo bent over every still body, his gentle hand becoming bloody as he checked each man's throat for a pulse. Suddenly, to his right, one of the British soldiers moaned. Instantly Mingo strode to his side and bent over the groaning body.

The coppery red hair gleamed in the summer sunlight. An arrow was embedded deeply in the soldier's right chest, another angled crazily from the man's upper thigh. His insignia indicated his captain's rank. This man was probably the leader of the doomed expedition. His hand still clutched his empty pistol. Mingo glanced quickly into the surrounding forest, looking for a likely place to settle and care for the wounded man. From the position of the arrow in the man's chest he understood that care was needed immediately. Moving him at all would be dangerous. But he also knew that soon the battlefield would become uninhabitable in the summer heat and very unhealthy. And there was always a possibility the Shawnee would return. The captain had to be moved.

Mingo rose and trotted into the trees. After ten minutes he returned and as gently as possible grasped the captain's feet and pulled him into the depths of the forest. Choosing the easiest path, walking slowly and jarring the man as little as possible, Mingo dragged him to a small circle of bushes. The thicket would provide some shelter and screening until Mingo could extract the arrows and staunch the bleeding.

The red hair was drenched with sweat and the man's pale skin was growing cold. Mingo knew that he must act quickly or the man would soon die. He quickly left the brush shelter to gather an armful of firewood, then dashed back into the bushes. He left the circle again to fill his iron camp pot with water from a small spring he'd found a few hundred yards away. The water would be ready if he needed it. He struck his flint and steel to a small pile of tinder and placed several sticks on the fire. Tightening his lips, he drew his ramrod from his rifle and placed six inches of the steel into the fire to heat. He did the same with his knife.

Once again he rushed into the woods, pulling several handfuls of dried moss to use as a packing on the wounds. He also pulled a dozen vines to use as binding. Then, returning to the groaning man, he at last bent over the tall body and carefully investigated the wounds.

Mingo exposed the man's thigh, braced himself on his knees, firmly gripped his knife and sliced a deep gash in the man's thigh over the entry wound. The soldier's leg muscle twitched but the man remained unconscious. He grasped the shaft and with one quick jerk easily pulled the arrow free. He singed the wound carefully with his ramrod. Sighing in relief, Mingo packed a handful of moss on the wound and wrapped it with vines to hold it in place. Then he took his knife and carefully slit the red coat away from the bloody arrow in the man's chest. The arrow was deeply embedded, indicating that it had been a close shot. Mingo bit his lower lip in concentration. He carefully looked at the angle of entry, then cut away enough of the soldier's shirt to expose a palm-sized area of skin. The arrow seemed to have penetrated between two ribs. He glanced at the ramrod's glowing tip. Bowing his head as he gathered his concentration Mingo held his breath and gripped his knife.

Using the tip he decisively enlarged the entry wound. The shivering man moaned. Still holding his breath, Mingo pulled the arrow from the wound. It came out cleanly and Mingo released his breath. There was no spout of blood, but the wound was very deep and he understood that the man was close to death. Gritting his teeth Mingo placed the glowing ramrod against the man's pale chest. The soldier bucked uncontrollably several seconds as the rod burned the blood vessels closed. The smell of seared flesh and singed hair assailed Mingo's sensitive nose and he sneezed. He quickly wadded a handful of moss against the wound and pressed it there for several minutes. He was alarmed at the coldness of the man's moist skin. 

He reached for his shoulder bag and pulled his blanket loose from the bottom of the leather pouch. With only one hand he awkwardly pulled the blanket over the soldier's body. He secured the moss in place by closing the man's heavy red coat and tucked the blanket carefully around the suffering man. Then he rose and trotted into the forest once again to gather more moss and to search for a better shelter. The night would be cool and the wounded man needed warmth. 

After nearly a half hour Mingo returned to the brushy ring. The soldier remained unconscious, moaning in his distress. Mingo checked the bleeding and was relieved to see that the chest wound was nearly dry and the leg wound's flow had stopped. He carefully gathered his camp equipment and ran lightly to the small cave he'd found. Though recessed only about ten feet into a hillside the cave would be ideal for Mingo's purpose. It was small and easy to heat. The area surrounding the cave was thick with brush, nearly hiding the mouth. It would provide the needed shelter for the many days the soldier would take to gather strength. Then Mingo could take him to Boonesborough and turn him over to Cincinnatus' care.

Returning to the circle of shrubs Mingo carefully grasped the soldier under the arms and pulled him the distance to the cave. Once inside Mingo gently laid the tall unconscious body as deep into the cave as he could. Then he covered the shivering man once again and left the cave to gather as much wood as he could find before darkness settled over the Kentucky forest. Thinking ahead to the coming darkness, Mingo crafted a torch holder from a cleft in the limestone walls which he packed with mud as support.

Late in the night Mingo was awakened from a light sleep by the thrashing of the wounded soldier. He was shouting orders and flailing with his arms. Mingo slid to his side and held his arms down to prevent a reopening of the chest wound. The dim firelight illuminated the soldier's light eyes and pale perspiring skin. After he lay still, panting, Mingo dipped a piece of cloth torn from the soldier's shirt into the warm water remaining in the small iron pot. He compassionately bathed the soldier's sweaty, bloody face. Then he raised the man with his left arm and placed a cup of coffee to the man's trembling lips. The soldier drank thirstily and closed his eyes. Mingo carefully checked the chest wound. It remained closed though seeping a watery fluid tinged with blood. Mingo placed a fresh wad of moss over the deep wound. Then he checked the leg wound and treated it the same.

He leaned back against the cave wall and sipped another cup of coffee. As the dawn approached the soldier dipped into a deeper sleep and Mingo slipped out of the cave to check his snares. He returned within the hour carrying two plump rabbits. He cut the meat into small pieces to stew. Then he checked on the sleeping soldier. Finding him still sleeping deeply Mingo again left the little cave and returned with a full pot of water. He added more wood to the fire and began to brew a pot of strong coffee. The odors of stewing rabbit and strong coffee served to revive the British soldier enough to open his eyes.

Mingo saw the man's eyes open and waited for the reaction. The man lay still for several minutes, taking inventory of his battered body. Then he slowly turned his head to look in the direction of the campfire. There his blue eyes fell upon Mingo's long black hair and Cherokee clothing. His hand involuntarily reached for his missing pistol, then fell limply at this side as he lost consciousness. Mingo slid beside him and felt of the man's cold forehead. He pulled the blanket up close around the man's shoulders and added more wood to the fire. Then he sat back down at the cave's mouth and ate his breakfast of stewed rabbit and strong coffee.

Hours later the soldier again regained consciousness. This time he tried to sit up. Mingo quickly pushed him back down. "Don't try to sit alone. Your chest wound is serious. Let me lift you." Mingo braced himself and lifted the soldier's dead weight to lean against the cave wall. The soldier groaned and held his breath. A weak tremble began in his arms and legs. Mingo pulled the blanket close around the man's body and poured a cup of steaming coffee. He held the cup out to the soldier whose trembling hand attempted to take it. Mingo saw the tremble and held the cup so the man could drink. After a dozen swallows the British officer turned his head away from the cup. Seconds later Mingo returned to his side with the pot of rabbit stew. The soldier swallowed several mouthfuls before turning his head away again. Mingo nodded.

"Do you wish to remain seated or do you wish to lie back down?" Mingo's deep voice betrayed his British accent and the captain raised puzzled eyes to the Indian beside him.

"Remain seated." The captain's voice trembled with weakness. Mingo watched carefully to be ready to catch the man if he fell forward. He saw the captain attempt to draw as far away from him as possible. The effort caused Mingo to frown, then shake his head in disbelief. He slid back to the cave front and turned his back on the foolish English captain.

Familiar with prejudice, Mingo was nevertheless often surprised when it reared its ugly head. As he sat silently thinking his frown began to soften as the thought occurred to him that the soldier was simply reacting as could be expected. After all, he'd nearly been killed by Indians just hours before. And Mingo was decidedly an Indian. Probably the captain expected to be strengthened so he could be tortured to death in a nearby village. Resolving to set the man's mind at ease, Mingo turned and looked at the silent soldier leaning against the cave wall. Both hands were clenched into fists though his body still shook with weak trembles. Compassion again rose in Mingo's heart and he brought another cup of coffee to the wounded man.

The captain's blue eyes looked long into Mingo's. He breathed deeply and tried to speak. He cleared his throat and tried again. Mingo held out the cup of coffee and the soldier took it carefully. He swallowed a mouthful of the hot strong brew, then cleared his throat again. Mingo saw his jaw tremble as he spoke.

"Why are you doing this? Helping me, I mean. Why didn't you kill me too?"

Mingo shook his head. "Rest easy, Captain. I am a Cherokee. Those who attacked you were Shawnee. I am not your enemy."

Mingo could see the words swirling in the man's foggy brain. Wordlessly he handed the cup back to Mingo, then attempted to lay down. Mingo quickly reached out and pulled the man's long body down to lie full length. He carefully arranged the blanket over the tall form. The man's blue eyes watched every movement then closed as Mingo tucked the blanket close around him. He sighed deeply and fell back asleep.

While the man slept Mingo took the opportunity to hunt. He returned to the little cave two hours later with a small turkey. A short hour later it was spitted and roasting over the fire. The captain stirred and once again attempted to sit up. Mingo turned to watch him. After several seconds of futile struggle the captain admitted that he needed help. He turned to look into Mingo's face and asked the Indian to help him sit.

"I think it would be a better idea for me to help you out of this cave so you can release some of the liquid you've consumed. Don't you?"

The soldier blushed a deep scarlet red but was forced to nod in agreement. Mingo placed his left arm under the man's shoulders and pulled slowly. The soldier followed Mingo's lift and was soon leaning most of his weight on the Cherokee's strong shoulders. 

A quarter of an hour later the captain was back asleep after the extreme exertion and Mingo was savoring a slice of roasted turkey. The hot afternoon sun made him drowsy and he soon was curled up in its rays, fast asleep.

He awoke an hour later to find the captain also awake. Mingo helped him sit and sliced several pieces of roast turkey for the wounded man. With a cup of strong coffee the soldier completed his meal. Mingo left him alone and returned to the cave with several more handfuls of dry moss. After the soldier was finished Mingo knelt to begin dressing the wounds. But the captain wouldn't allow it. Mingo frowned in annoyance.

"Captain, the moss needs to be changed. And I need to see how the healing is progressing. I am the one who has tended you thus far and you haven't seemed to mind."

"I was unconscious. I can tend myself now."

Mingo looked into the captain's eyes and saw the haughty expression. A memory stirred in his mind. His dark eyes narrowed as he watched the soldier peel away the moss from his wounded leg, then bind the clean moss over the dark, bloody hole. From a few feet away Mingo could tell that the wound was healing normally. He could smell no corruption. The captain leaned back against the cave wall, gathering strength to treat his chest wound. When after a few minutes he did not stir Mingo understood that he had either fallen asleep or was unconscious. So he removed the soiled moss form the chest wound and replaced it with clean moss. That wound also was healing normally.

Mingo stood and walked to the cave's mouth. He continued to walk through the forest until he came to a clear, deep creek. He stripped off his clothes and spent the next hour swimming and sunning himself on the bank. The memory that had surfaced in the cave preyed on his mind and he needed time alone to wrestle with it. When he was quieter he strode back to the cave and prepared to spend another night tending the contemptuous British soldier.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Three more days passed with few words spoken between the two men. Mingo spent as much time as possible away from the cave, hunting, swimming and just enjoying being away from the arrogant captain. On the fifth day after the battle he began to make a drag to take the injured Englishman to Boonesborough and pass him off to Cincinnatus.

As the afternoon wore on toward evening Mingo broke evergreen branches from the nearby trees to make the ride as springy as possible. When he entered the cave he noticed that the captain was watching him. He moved the coffee pot nearer the fire to heat and sat leaning against the cave walls.

"I think that you have recovered enough to survive the journey to Boonesborough, Captain. We will start out tomorrow morning." Mingo was chaffing to return to Chota. He knew that Menewa was anxiously awaiting his arrival from the mission that had sent him to the Carolina Cherokees. Menewa's agreement with Daniel Boone was causing disquiet among his people and he needed to know what other Cherokee bands had decided to do about the current conflict between the two white nations.

"Before you place me on that drag tomorrow and possibly kill me with this supposed journey to Boonesborough, I wish to tell you my name. I wouldn't want you to kill me and not know who you'd killed." Mingo's jaw clenched at the captain's words and the pale English soldier smiled victoriously.

"Very well, Captain. Enlighten me._ I_ would hate to remain in ignorance."

The captain now clenched his jaw as Mingo's implication registered in his mind. "You imply that I am ignorant? Why don't you enlighten ME then Indian?"

Mingo's anger was growing rapidly. And though he mistrusted his judgment when angry he did nothing to restrain his temper. With a slight smile on his handsome brown face, he complied.

"You are English, in your late twenties or early thirties. You are here in the colonies to advance your career. You care nothing for your men, the native peoples, or Kentucky. You are haughty, arrogant, selfish and contemptuous of everyone but yourself. When the colonists ask for your ransom you will undoubtedly believe the amount asked is too small. Shall I go on?"

The English captain's lips lifted in a sneer. "Pray continue, Horatio."

Mingo's eyes narrowed as he understood the reference to Hamlet. "You consider me a servant, little better than a slave? Why then did you allow me to care for your wounds, Captain? Why do you trust me?"

"I don't. Shall I tell about you now, Indian?" Mingo's silence prompted the English captain to continue. "You were educated in England by someone who took pity on your sorry state and tried to make your life richer. But you preferred to run half-naked through the forest to associating with your betters. Perhaps you are right. You are better suited to pillage and murder than to sit down for a Sunday dinner with gentlemen."

Mingo's face pulled taut at the taunt. The English captain's face glowed with cruelty. His voice dripped with malice as he continued.

"You fancy yourself a man but you are really a child. Your people are so blindly stupid that they trade away miles of land for sparkling beads and cheap cloth. You fight among yourselves for poorly made iron pots and piles of shoddy blankets. Do you know how easy it is to kill you? All we have to do is infect a load of cloth or blankets with measles or smallpox and trade it to you. Do you know why I allow you to tend me? So you can see what a better man is like. You should feel privileged that I allow you to help me attend to my bodily functions."

Mingo could no longer control his temper. He leaped to his feet and grabbed the English captain's red coat. He shook the helpless man, and as he did so the coat pulled away from the pale man's body as he slumped forward unconsciously. Mingo closed his eyes and tilted his head back as he fought his emotions. Stitched inside the red coat's collar and plainly visible to the Cherokee's eyes was the name: Rylan Keane Murray. His cousin.

Upon Mingo's graduation from Oxford and his refusal to attend the Royal Military Academy John Murray had by necessity turned to Rylan as the next in the succession. Mingo remembered Rylan as a whiny, cruel boy whose greatest delight was in building model ships and then wrecking them in violent mock battles. Whenever Mingo couldn't avoid his cousin he tried to simply tolerate the younger boy until he could escape. 

The Earl of Dunsmore had eventually taken a wife after Mingo left England, and the marriage quickly produced a son, George. That son would now be in a position to assume the title, position, and power that Mingo had forsaken long ago. Rylan would have been displaced back into the second position.

Mingo had given no thought to this family conundrum for nearly fifteen years. And now here it was confronting him in the person of this heartily disliked British captain.

Mingo dropped the coat from his hands, allowing the trembling body to slump down against the cave's limestone wall. Rylan Murray slowly slid across the cold surface and lay unconscious on the damp floor. Mingo stood several seconds looking down at the bright coppery red hair, memories flooding unbidden through his mind. Then he leaned over and straightened his cousin's body, covering the tall frame with his own blanket as he had for the previous five nights. Shaking his head in resignation he silently went to sit in the cave's mouth, images from his previous life warring in his mind.

After an hour's time Mingo slowly stood and checked his still unconscious cousin. Though the other man's words continued to burn in his heart Mingo decided to complete his plan to take the English soldier to Boonesborough. The settlers could do as they liked with him. Mingo made a conscious effort to block out the knowledge that continued to course through his mind like an unbridled stream in spring. He made final improvements upon the drag then ate a large meal of turkey and coffee. He placed several slices near the soldier and turned his back on the man, sitting beside the warm fire as the summer evening turned cool.

Sometime in the night Mingo heard the soldier stir. Without turning and looking he knew by the sound that the man was attempting to stand. He probably needed to relieve himself. Mingo waited for the call but the soldier refused to admit his need for the Cherokee's help. He staggered slowly to the cave mouth, bracing his weight against the cave wall. He turned his back on the Indian and performed the necessary deed. But when he tried to turn and creep back into the cave his hand slipped on the cave wall and he fell to his knees. He hit his head hard against the limestone wall and lay still. Mingo dragged him to the rear of the cave and examined the head wound. There was a knot already rising near the hair line above the soldier's left eye.

Mingo decided that the blow was not life-threatening and went back to the cave mouth. He spent the rest of the night listening to the shallow breathing behind him and the night sounds before him. Though he felt no affection for his cousin he did feel honor bound to do all that he could to save the man's life. To that end he was still prepared to pull the heavy body the rest of the way to the settlement. The first rays of dawn found him seated motionless in the cave mouth as the soldier behind him sat and stared maliciously at his vulnerable back.

"You won't get me to Boonesborough, Indian. I will escape from you even if it means I kill you. You know that."

"And what will you kill me with? You have no shot or powder, no knife." Mingo's detached voice betrayed no emotion. 

"You do. And you can't watch me all the time."

"You are proceeding from a false assumption, Captain. I have no stake in your ransom. If you wish I will leave you right now. It is no pleasure for me to drag you many miles through the Kentucky forest. I was willing to do it in order to save your life. But if that is not a priority to you, so be it."

Mingo rose and began to ready himself to leave. He rolled his blanket and tied it to the bottom of his pack. He drank the last of the coffee and placed all his camp equipment inside the leather pouch. He hung his rolled whip over his knife, pulled his powder horn and shot pouch over his shoulder, lifted his rifle and wordlessly strode away from the cave mouth. Behind him in the little cave the English captain stood braced against the wall of the cave, his teeth clenched to prevent him from calling Mingo back. As the tall Cherokee disappeared into the Kentucky forest the weak British officer slowly slid down against the wall of the cave and lay still.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Chapter 3 

A day later Mingo reported to Menewa and the Cherokee leaders spent time in council trying to decide their course of action. When the council couldn't reach a decision Mingo suggested that he go to Boonesborough and bring Daniel Boone to Chota to explain the settlers' side of the argument. The other members of the council readily agreed and Mingo set out immediately for his friend's cabin.

He arrived in a half day, covering the distance as rapidly as possible. Mingo was very worried about the direction his Cherokee people seemed to be traveling. He hoped that between himself and Daniel they could steer Menewa into a neutral course. Deep in thought, Mingo stepped onto the Boone's porch and gave his customary flat-handed knock on the door. Seconds later Daniel opened the door and Mingo stepped inside.

"Mingo! I'm so glad to see you." Rebecca Boone gave the family friend an affectionate pat as she placed a steaming cup of coffee before him. "Dan and I were just talking about how long it's been since you've been here. How are you?"

Daniel was watching Mingo's expressive eyes and saw the hidden message lurking in the brown depths. "Yeah, Mingo, seems like we don't see as much of you as we used to. Is somethin' wrong?"

Mingo raised his dark eyes to Daniel's face and immediately Daniel knew. There was trouble among the Cherokees. Mingo was worn down with it. The strain and fatigue were plain on his face. Daniel nodded at Becky as she set a plate of bread and cheese before Mingo and the tall woman returned the gesture. She bustled back to the kitchen and left the two men seated before the warm fire.

"Daniel, Menewa is trying hard to hold his people to the agreement he made with you. But most of the other Cherokee leaders are siding with the British, as I'm sure you already know. I need you to come with me and reassure Menewa and the council that an alliance with you and the colonists is the better course."

"The British are steppin' up their advances into the backwoods too. Only last week Amos Brand and his boy Sandy found a dozen English bodies in a meadow about thirty miles from here and a nearly dead captain holed up in a cave nearby. Seems he'd been tended by somebody who'd even made a drag to carry him. But then that man'd left him all alone to die. Can't figure why somebody'd do that, can you?"

Daniel's face grew puzzled as Mingo rose and paced nervously. The action was so unlike Mingo that Daniel became suspicious. "Mingo, do you know somethin' about that English captain? Seems to me you prob'bly came back from the Carolinas on a path right close to that battlefield. What do you know about all this?"

Daniel continued to watch Mingo's face and was further disturbed to see his friend swallow and close his eyes. Daniel stood and pulled Mingo out onto the porch, closing the door behind them so Becky couldn't hear their conversation.

"Now tell me what you know about this. I can see that you know way more than you're lettin' on."

Mingo lowered his eyes and stepped off the porch. He walked a few paces into the Boone's yard, then with his back to Daniel began to speak.

"Yes, Daniel, I know about the English captain. I am the one who aided him. The stronger he became the more offensive he became. He decided to refuse my aid; I didn't abandon him." Mingo turned to look into Daniel's light green eyes. "Believe me, Daniel, I didn't."

"I believe you Mingo. I couldn't see you ever turnin' your back on anyone who needed your help. Even your own English cousins!"

Mingo's head snapped back and he involuntarily caught his breath. Daniel saw it all and immediately understood. He walked the three paces to Mingo's side and placed his hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Mingo." Daniel's voice was low and soft. "That captain is your blood cousin?" When Mingo silently nodded Daniel continued. "Does he know who you are?" Mingo shook his head in the negative and stepped away from Daniel's friendly hand.

"I don't know who I am, Daniel. It seems that every time I think that I do, my past reasserts itself and I'm lost again."

"You're not lost Mingo. I know who you are. You are a brave and honest man who wouldn't refuse help even to your enemy. You've been the most steady friend that I've ever had, and though I don't always know how to deal with your particular brand of honor I always respect it."

Mingo's haunted eyes searched Daniel's for several seconds. Then he closed his eyes briefly and nodded.

"Come back inside and have some bread and cheese. Becky'll have fresh coffee ready by now. You sit and eat while I get ready. Then we'll set out for Chota and do what we can to keep ever'body peaceful."

"One more thing, Daniel. Where is the captain now?"

"Still recuperatin' at Cincinnatus'. We sent a ransom letter over to Ninety-Six. Should hear back in a week or two." Daniel looked into Mingo's taut face. "Is there somethin' you want me to do diff'rent?"

"No. I just wanted to be certain that he was being cared for."

Daniel smiled and once again placed his big hand on Mingo's shoulder. He squeezed and together the two men walked back inside the warm cabin. Becky greeted them with a full pot of coffee, warm sweet rolls and her loving smile.

Their trip to Chota solved the allegiance question for Menewa's Cherokees, at least for the time being. Mingo relaxed after the day-long discussion with Daniel ended and slept deeply for ten hours. When he wakened he joined his family for a meal and fellowship, then as was his habit slipped away into the forest for the solitude he craved. Though he tried to distance himself from his cousin the knowledge that the man was a day's journey away continued to gnaw at his heart. He finally decided that keeping the physical distance would increase the emotional distance, so he spent the rest of the week wandering the Kentucky forest alone.

On the tenth day of his solitude he heard the jangle of bits and spurs. Cautiously he walked toward the sound and saw two horses and two riders several hundred yards away. One man was Timothy Shavers of Boonesborough and the other was Rylan Keane Murray. Mingo deduced that the ransom had been agreed upon and Tim was taking the English captain to Ninety-Six. Mingo was puzzled at the choice. Perhaps Tim had volunteered for some reason that Mingo didn't know.

As he watched he noticed Tim's careless demeanor and grew alarmed. 

Just as he strode to intercept the two men and warn Tim to better guard his charge Mingo saw the Englishman spur his horse and dash past the Boonesborough man. Tim twisted in the saddle as Murray passed. The Englishman shoved him hard. Tim fell heavily to the ground and struck his head. His horse galloped away. Captain Murray rode rapidly at right angles, aiming for the thickest part of the forest and disappearing in seconds.

Mingo dashed to Timothy and found the other man attempting to sit. Mingo grabbed his arm and raised him. "Are you injured?" Mingo asked.

Tim shook his head. "Not really. All that's really hurt is my pride. Shoulda known better. Damned Englishman!" Tim looked into Mingo's face and blushed. "Sorry," he stammered. He placed both hands against his head and blinked hard.

Mingo nodded. "If you can make your way back to Boonesborough I'll catch your horse and take the captain to Ninety-Six."

"I shouldn't let you do that. I volunteered 'cause I wanted to see my Daisy on the way home. It's my responsibility." Tim sighed and felt the bump on the side of his head. He winced. "Guess she'll just have to wait a bit longer." Tim rose unsteadily. He shook his head to clear it, then limped slowly down his backtrail. Mingo watched him for several seconds to make sure the man was strong enough to travel the miles back to the settlement. After the space of thirty seconds Tim's steps steadied and he began his long walk back to Boonesborough. Mingo suddenly shouted and trotted to the settler's side.

"Here, you have no gun. Take mine."

"I can't do that! You'll need it to recapture that English captain. Mine broke in two when I fell."

"I have other means of accomplishing that, Tim. Take my rifle." Mingo thrust his gun and accoutrements into the other man's hands, turned and began to run before the other man could refuse. An hour later he was mounted on Tim's horse and riding a course designed to intercept the English captain. As he rode he listened for the sound of the bridle's metal rings and bit. Within another hour the bright tinkling sound led Mingo to his cousin. The man was weaving in the saddle, obviously in physical distress. Mingo trailed him silently, keeping a distance of several hundred yards. After another hour Rylan toppled from his horse and lay still in the Kentucky grass. Mingo pulled his own horse to a halt and observed his cousin for several minutes. The other man did not move.

He dismounted and slowly approached the prone body. The captain lay on his face, breathing raggedly. Mingo turned his cousin's body and frowned at the pale skin. He tightened his lips, then grasped the tall body under the arms and pulled the man to a sitting position against a tree. Carefully he examined the man's chest to be certain the wound was still closed. He pulled a rope from his pack and tied his cousin to the tree, then began to construct a fire ring and gather firewood. Just as the sun began its final journey through the trees the captain awoke.

"Well, if it isn't my old friend. Boone's Injun. What a coincidence." The voice was weak but still contained the disdain visible in the man's pale face. Mingo winced involuntarily at the sobriquent. "What's wrong Cherokee, you don't appreciate the nom de guere? The proprietor of the establishment at the fort assured me that you were indeed Daniel Boone's dog." The captain chuckled mirthlessly.

"I am Daniel Boone's friend." The obvious pride in Mingo's low voice caused the captain to frown.

"How is that possible? Daniel Boone is a well-known explorer, a land speculator, a magistrate, a captain of the traitorous militia. Why would a man of his caliber deign to call a redskin a friend? You delude yourself Indian. A common flaw of your inferior race. You are no more Daniel Boone's friend than you are a titled Englishman!"

Mingo clenched his jaw at the baiting words just as the cruel young captain desired. Willing his jaw to relax, Mingo rose and took his coffee pot in search of water. Upon his return ten minutes later he noticed that the captain was asleep. Taking several slices of jerky from his pack Mingo sat and silently ate the meat and drank cups of strong black coffee. But the comforting fullness of his stomach could not ease the discomfort of his mind. He began to softly sing a well-remembered Cherokee lullaby. His deep voice tenderly caressed the words. The melody lulled his troubled mind and he slept.

The summer moon rose full and bright. In the quiet of the Kentucky darkness Mingo became aware of a strange sound. He shook the sleep from his mind and rose to investigate. Before he could take a step two Catawba Indians grabbed him from behind. He strained to break free as his cousin, now freed by the red-coated officer, laughed loudly.

"Now, bind him. Here, use this rope!" Rylan Murray held out the rope that Mingo had used to tie him. "And bind him to this tree. This is the kind of justice you deserve, wouldn't you agree? After all, you were going to use me. The garrison at Ninety-Six will be very pleased to interrogate Boone's Injun. The worm has turned, wouldn't you say? "The English captain leaned to look into the bound Cherokee's clouded eyes and laughed again.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Mingo slumped dejectedly on the hard, narrow wooden bed. The journey had been long and he had arrived at the garrison tired, hungry and angry with himself. Allowing his cousin's words to upset him, relaxing his guard in the wilderness, both were mistakes that could easily result in his death. As he awaited the questioning that he knew would follow the morning light he drew on all his warrior's training and slipped into a light sleep. His growling stomach caused discomfort but sleep was vital to refresh his mind. So as the darkness brightened toward dawn he lightly slept.

He awakened to the cell door scraping open. A slight stooped man entered the small area with a plate in his hands. He extended the plate to Mingo and backed out of the room. Though bound to the bed by a chain around his waist Mingo's hands were only lightly manacled. He quickly ate the meal of fried eggs and biscuits. The water bucket was nearby and he quenched his thirst with a long drink. He turned at the sound of the door scraping open again and found himself facing a short, stocky lieutenant. A private entered behind the officer and released Mingo's waist chain. The lieutenant gestured for Mingo to follow, turned and led the way to a well-constructed double cabin. 

Once inside Mingo faced a colonel twice his age. Before him on his desk was a document. Mingo assumed that it was a deposition from his cousin, Captain Murray. Seconds later he found that he was correct.

"Captain Murray reports that you are an intimate of Daniel Boone. After he escaped from the inept colonist he was overtaken by you. You tied him, did not feed him or provide water, and fully intended to bring him here for the ransom agreed upon between Boone and myself. Do you dispute any of Captain Murray's facts?"

Mingo stared into the colonel's light blue eyes. He refused to speak. After two minutes passed the colonel cleared his throat.

"Since you refuse to speak I will accept Captain Murray's narrative as fact." The Colonel rolled the document and prepared to seal it. Mingo's voice interrupted the act. 

"Did Captain Murray also inform you that I saved his life?"

The Colonel looked up in surprise. "In what capacity did you, an Indian, save a British officer?"

"I found Captain Murray after his command was killed by Shawnee. I removed two arrows, I dressed the wounds, I fed the captain and cared for his wounds five days. I prepared a drag to pull him to Boonesborough where he could finish his recuperation." Mingo's words drifted into the still room.

The colonel frowned. "Captain Murray reported nothing like you are describing. I will ask him about your allegations. Meanwhile, I will have you returned to your cell. Then we will discuss your ransom. Ironic, isn't it? You were bringing Captain Murray to ransom, and now_ we_ have _you_." The colonel laughed in derision.

The humorless chortle followed Mingo as he left the office accompanied by the stocky lieutenant. He looked at the blue Carolina sky as he walked behind the officer, cherishing the bright expanse before he was again enclosed in the small dark cell. Gritting his teeth as the door shut on the outside world, Mingo sat down on the narrow bed and fought his growing discomfort. His wrists were dark with bruises from the iron manacles. His unease at being confined brought forth all the memories of the cause and he sat with his long legs drawn to his chest and his dark head resting on his bent knees.

After some time passed he jerked his head up at the sound of the door scraping on the dirt floor. A tall slender man entered the dim cell. In the faint light from the open door Mingo could see light brown hair. The man stepped toward his cot and a thrill of recognition ran through Mingo's stiff body. Carefully keeping his eyes neutral Mingo rose to stand before the other man.

"It is you. Kerr, I didn't recognize you at first. I saw you from a distance when you crossed the compound. How you have changed!" Calvin Cushing extended his right hand and took Mingo's in his own. The dark bruises on his manacled wrists caused Calvin to frown in sympathy. "The colonel believes that you are a representative from the colony of Boonesborough here to ransom Captain Murray. Tell me the truth, Kerr. Is the colonel correct?"

"Answer a question for me first, Calvin. What are you doing in a loyalist frontier settlement?"

"I am a loyal subject of King George. I am here serving as chaplain to His Majesty's forces on the Saluda River. My family and I live here."

"You volunteered to come to the colonies? Why, Calvin? I thought you intended to follow your father and become the dominie at Oxford."

"I did originally. Don't you know why I'm here? "Mingo shook his head and Calvin smiled brightly. "Because of you. All the times we talked late into the night. You made the wilderness so clean, so free. I wanted to be clean and free too."

Mingo's voice was soft and filled with humor and affection. "Were you following me, Calvin?"

"Not really. I thought of you, of course. You and I had a strong bond and I missed that after you left. I continued in the seminary, married and began a family. But I still missed you. I've never again known anyone quite like you." Calvin sat on the edge of Mingo's bed and bowed his head. "I've been lonely for your friendship. My father liked you very much. All my family did. I hope you knew that. And I'll tell you a secret. I always felt that you were treated badly."

"I knew. And I hope that you know that you and your family's affection and support probably saved me. There were many, many dark hours in my life then."

The two men allowed a silence to fall between them as memories overwhelmed their minds. Suddenly Calvin Cushing looked up into Mingo's dark eyes and he grasped Mingo's arm. His voice was hushed and quivering with discovery.

"Captain Murray! He looks so much like your father. Heavens Kerr, is Rylan Murray your cousin?"

Mingo nodded in silent acknowledgement. Calvin Cushing sat still, his hand squeezing Mingo's arm with suppressed emotion. "Oh, I'm sorry! I understand now. No wonder he's so determined to ruin you. And he is determined. He wants you punished."

"Calvin, he doesn't know who I am."

"Didn't you tell him? How could you tend him like you did and not tell him? "

"Because I didn't want him to know. It is not something that I wish to admit. Please, Calvin, don't betray my connection to him. Promise me."

Calvin stood and looked into Mingo's eyes. Then he slowly nodded. "As you wish. But when you are released I want you to come and meet my family. I have told them all about you."

Mingo smiled and squeezed Calvin's arm affectionately. "Are you sure? I don't look like the proper English lord's son anymore."

"Kerr, it's not your appearance that matters to me. It never did. It's you."

"You may feel differently if you had lost family members to Indian raids."

"Perhaps. But I don't know how I could have gotten over Joey's death without you." The other man's voice broke. "You say that I saved you? I think that you saved me."

The two men stood silently for several minutes traveling memory paths years old. Then Calvin released Mingo's arm and stepped to the cell door. "I'll do all that I can to assure your quick release. I remember how enclosed places always bothered you. And this cell is tiny and dark. Depend on me. I'm here to help." With those final words Calvin Cushing knocked on the door. The guard opened it. He waved at Mingo as he closed the cell door behind him. Mingo heard it lock. He was left alone, wondering about his fate at the hands of a man whose wounds he had tended.

In the late hours of the night Mingo was awakened by the cell door slowly opening. Instantly alert he tightly gathered the chain from his manacles to use as a weapon if needed. In silence the other man bent and unlocked the waist chain. Then he grasped Mingo's vest and pulled the tall Cherokee upright. Beckoning, the other man slipped through the door. Mingo followed, all his suspicions aroused. The moon was dark and in the starlight Mingo was not able to determine the identity of the other man. The two men crept through the open garrison gates and melted into the shadows beside the palisade. There Mingo halted.

His rescuer also halted and turned to face him. It was Rylan Murray. Mingo saw the pistol in his cousin's right hand. It was pointed directly at his ribs. Suddenly he understood. Captain Murray intended to shoot his own cousin as he 'attempted to escape'. That was why he still wore the manacles. Standing proudly Mingo looked steadily into Rylan's blue eyes. In the near total darkness the expression wasn't visible but Mingo could see the other man's determination in every line of his tall thin body.

"Why, Captain? I am no threat to you. I am a prisoner and manacled. I could have killed you at any time had I desired it. I saved your life." Mingo's voice betrayed his complete puzzlement.

"I know who you are. You are Edmund Murray, half-brother to the rightful heir of the Dunsmore title. Your very existence is a threat to me. I recognized you the night you tied me to the tree. I heard you singing. I heard that same melody years ago in Uncle John's fine house. You were locked in your room upstairs. I tiptoed up to torment you and heard you singing."

"Ahhhh. Now I understand. Rylan, I have never wanted the title and you know it. If I wished to bind myself to that stilted, restrictive life I would have done so years ago."

"But you still can. And that is the threat. Don't tell me that you don't understand that Edmund. No matter how much you pretend, no matter how much you disguise yourself, I know that you haven't completely given up the title. You would be a fool to do that. No matter what else you are, you are no fool. You simply wanted to teach us all a lesson, make us all dance to your chosen tune. Alright, we danced. And now the final piece is beginning and I am the conductor."

The two men stood breathing softly into the still Carolina night. Mingo made no effort to grasp the pistol. His cousin's words seemed disconnected from the reality of his life. How could he make the other man see that his decision to forfeit the title was final? Young George would have no competition from him. Rylan would remain the next in line. How could he convince his cousin that he had no desire to belong to a world that produced men like Rylan Murray? 

Unseen by the two cousins Calvin Cushing slipped out of the garrison gates. He stood behind Mingo lost in the gate's shadow. "Captain Murray?"

Mingo and Rylan both jumped at the sound of Calvin's quiet voice. Rylan's hand jerked and the ball flew true. Mingo grunted as the missile grazed his rib cage and buried itself in the stockade wall. All three men stood rooted to the ground. Mingo's left hand touched the stinging furrow in his side and came away bloody. In the faint light the dark stain was clearly visible. He silently held out his bloody hand to his cousin. The three men could hear the garrison guard running toward them. Calvin stood behind his friend with his hands on Mingo's shoulders, staring at the captain's frozen body. 

"Rylan, this is why I will never go back. What kind of system produces men like you, men who could coldly kill their own flesh and blood? And for what? For position in a society that reeks of death and decay."

Mingo turned and together he and Calvin Cushing stepped back through the gates. The soldiers of the guard stopped and surrounded them. Calvin's voice was strained as he informed the guard of Captain Murray's position. He walked beside Mingo as the guard escorted him back to his cell. At the door the minister instructed the corporal to bring a basin of warm water and cloth bandages to Mingo's cell. 

"How bad is it Kerr? I can't see in the dark." Calvin's gentle hands untied Mingo's belt and lifted his torn leather vest. 

"The ball just grazed my ribs. The serious wound isn't in my body."

Calvin sighed deeply, understanding Mingo's true meaning. "How can I help you?"

Though Calvin couldn't see the smile he heard it in Mingo's deep voice. "Calvin, you help me by your presence, just as you always have."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The morning found Mingo once again in the colonel's office. In attendance were the corporal of the guard and Calvin Cushing. The colonel asked for Mingo's statement concerning the jailbreak. Looking straight ahead he gave his deposition.

"Colonel, Captain Murray entered my cell late last night and released me. He took me to the open gates and then he shot me. I can only assume that the physical stresses of the recent past caused the captain to take leave of his senses. Beyond that assumption I have nothing to say."

Dead silence followed Mingo's words. The colonel stared at the tall man before him, searching for a truth that he suspected but could not verify. Finally he turned to the other two men in the room.

"Do either of you have anything to add?"

Neither man spoke. After ten seconds the colonel slapped his hand on his desk and barked, "You are dismissed."

The corporal moved to take Mingo's arm and escort him back to his cell. But Calvin Cushing stepped forward. "Colonel, may I make a suggestion?"

The colonel looked at the minister and nodded. Calvin continued, "Release this man. He saved the life of Captain Murray and instead of being rewarded for that action he is being held a prisoner. This is not fair or honorable."

"Vicar Cushing, this man is being held for ransom just as his compatriots held Captain Murray. What could be more fair?"

"Can you not see the difference, Colonel? Without this man Captain Murray would be dead. You personally know the captain's uncle, Lord Dunsmore. As do I." Mingo's eyes flickered with worry that Calvin would betray his connection to Rylan Murray. He released his breath slowly as Calvin continued. "I am not saying that this Indian needs to be rewarded. I am saying that he should be released."

Calvin's light brown eyes never wavered as he stared at the confused colonel. All of Calvin's words sank slowly through the older man's brain. Was there a veiled threat there? Suddenly the colonel rose and waved his hand at Mingo. "Release him." Then the colonel walked rapidly through the nearby door and disappeared. The corporal drew a key from his pocket and removed the manacles from Mingo's bruised wrists. Beside him Calvin smiled. Together the two men walked from the colonel's office into the bright Carolina sunlight. 

Running toward them were two little girls. A little boy tottered behind them. Calvin bent down and hugged his two daughters, then caught his little son and held him against his shoulder. "Daddy, Momma says to come in to breakfast. She says the coffee's getting cold." Calvin's older daughter was a bold child. The little girl's light brown eyes traveled up Mingo's tall frame. When she reached his face she smiled. 

"Calvin, thank you for all your help. But I don't want to cause you any disgrace or embarrassment. I'm not exactly the most welcome man at this garrison. I think I'd better go." Mingo faced his friend and looked into his light brown eyes. The affection there was like a balm on Mingo's wounded heart.

"Kerr, there is no other man whose presence is more welcome in my home. I don't care what anyone may think. I can always say that I was 'preaching to the heathen' if anyone wants to make an issue of you being in my house." Calvin's thin lips lifted into a smile that lit his pale face. 

"Daddy!" The little girl was becoming impatient. Mingo's dark brown eyes began to twinkle and he reached for her little hand. Confidently she allowed the stranger to take her hand and walk beside her. She chattered the entire way to the Cushing residence, Mingo's quiet warmth inspiring her trust. Above her little brown head her father and his dear friend smiled at each other.

After a large breakfast including English scones and jam, Mingo bowed his heartfelt thanks to Amanda Cushing. He patted Bessie, Nancy and James. Bessie beckoned for him to bend down, and when he did she kissed him lightly on his dimpled cheek. Mingo gave her his warm smile. Then Calvin walked with his friend to the stockade gates. 

There the corporal on duty handed Mingo a sealed envelope. He turned it in his hand and saw Rylan's seal. Frowning, he stood undecided. Beside him Calvin waited patiently. When Mingo raised his eyes Calvin nodded. "Go and see him. You will torment yourself if you don't. Let him unburden himself, then let his words sink into the earth and be finished with them. I'll tell you goodbye after you've seen Captain Murray." 

Mingo nodded. The corporal on duty directed him to Rylan's quarters. The soldier guarding the door snapped to attention as Mingo approached. His cousin's voice sounded weak as he replied to Mingo's knock. Frowning, Mingo entered and found his cousin reclining on a divan before a small window. He stood just inside the door, waiting. Rylan's light blue eyes fell on the unopened letter in Mingo's hand.

"You didn't read my letter. Why?"

Mingo looked down at the letter in his hand. "I don't know. I thought that I would see you and you'd tell me what it contained."

Rylan's eyes couldn't meet his cousin's. "I want you to understand, Edmund. You had every advantage and you turned your back on it all. You are contemptuous of everything that is important to me. You make me feel cheap, as though my aspirations are all paste. A sham. "

Mingo heard the note of longing in the other man's voice. "I was eight when you arrived in London. Remember? I was the expected heir until Uncle John brought you back from the wilderness. Then suddenly I was nothing, a spare wheel. You breezed through Oxford, earning high marks and admiration. I struggled, earning nothing but derision. My father constantly compared me to you. 'How can you be duller than a half-breed Cherokee from the colonies?' He'd repeat those same words over and over as I struggled with my studies. He'd remind me that I was no longer in a position to inherit the title. He made it seem that if I was any kind of a man I would wrench it from you, do whatever it took to claim it. He looked at me as though I was his greatest disappointment. 

I had a chance again when you refused to attend the Military Academy. You retreated to the colonies and I became the next heir. My father would have been proud. He died thinking that I was a failure. Before you came he looked at me with pride. You took my father from me. I hated you for that. And I still do. Your brother will inherit, then you, and I am now the _second_ spare wheel."

Silence settled over the little room. Then Mingo spoke, his voice low and filled with understanding. "Rylan, I am not to blame for what you endured. But I do have some words of advice. You may heed them or discard them. You are a man, and you decide your course. I have absolutely no desire to claim the title you believe I crave. I feel no jealousy for my half-brother, none at all. I have a freedom that you can only imagine. And I cherish it beyond all things. If you seek a life of constriction and the fawning attention of those who secretly deride you, so be it. You have my blessing. "

Rylan raised his troubled eyes and looked into Mingo's face. His open countenance supported his words. Several seconds passed as the weakened Englishman searched his cousin's dark eyes. "Why did you stay with me in the cave? You must have known who I was. You could have killed me. I thought you _were_ going to kill me when you captured me outside Boonesborough. Why didn't you?"

Mingo's eyes flashed with anger. "Rylan, I've told you that I don't want your position! I've made that perfectly clear for years. Do you honestly believe that I would kill a man for social position? Social position means nothing to me! You've named it correctly: it is a sham. I knew that when I refused my father's bribes years ago. I have no desire, none, to live the life that you are seeking. Believe me!"

Rylan Murray looked long into his cousin's sincere face. Then he lifted his hand to his cousin in a farewell salute. Mingo nodded silently and turned to leave the little room. Behind him Rylan's voice added a postscript.

"I'll tell Uncle John that you are well and content."

Mingo nodded again without turning and opened the door. Rylan's words followed him. "Long life to you, Mingo of the Cherokee." As Mingo pulled the door shut behind him he heard Rylan's final murmured words. "And...thank you."

Several minutes later Calvin Cushing gripped Mingo's hand tightly. The two men looked into each other's eyes with great affection. "Write to me in Boonesborough, Calvin. Then come and see me. You and your family. And if you are feeling adventurous, accompany me to Chota. I'll be your guide to a world totally unfamiliar, and totally wonderful."

Calvin smiled broadly. "I may just do that, Kerr. I mean Mingo." Calvin shook his head, "No, you'll always be Kerr Murray to me. Go in peace, my friend." Calvin raised his hand and silently grasped Mingo's shoulder. Mingo returned the gesture, turned gracefully and began his long free stride back to the west and home. He smiled to himself as the evening birdcalls gave voice to his happiness, and his heart was once again filled with peace. 


End file.
